


Till Death Parted

by jusrecht



Category: Gundam SEED
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till Death Parted

  
The first time you met him, it was pure coincidence. Or maybe a direct interference of fate, because how could one boy and one girl from the opposing army end up in the same deserted island in the vast Pacific Ocean anyway? In the same night no less. It was like a scene from the old romance movies, those you would never admit watching because Cagalli Yula Athha was and would always be a stubborn tomboy who never, ever touched anything remotely romantic. Everybody knew that.

He was very good-looking, you had to admit, and a real gentleman in regards of his manners and bearings despite the fact that he was in front of an enemy. He was a soldier, but once he had found out that you were not, he treated you, though not exactly well, at least _decently_. Sometimes – after all, you were a sixteen-year-old girl – you couldn't help but to think that if you were just a little more romantic, if Lady Fate was willing to add her tangled threads a little more twist, sparks would be able to fly. But at that time there was already someone, another boy who kept your mind off others with his innocence, determination, misery – and perhaps also a pair of startling violet eyes – and everything and everyone else just slipped quietly to the background.

It was just so happened that your first love was Kira Yamato. And you were happy, contented, blissful, maybe hurt and angry at times, but still thrilled because you felt alive.

You were in love.

But the moment when the picture arrived at your hand and the words written on its back again and again refused to make sense to you, your world tumbled off its axis. It was not so much of the realization compared to the impact, but he stayed at your side as the truth came crashing down and you began to feel that you could, even if just a little, depend on him for a while. Your father had just died and your country was bombarded by Naturals who should be your closest kin and Kira was your goddamn brother and everything was wrong.

There were layers upon layers of pain, sadness, and you felt like you were lost forever if not for the need, the obligation to be strong. There was a country on your shoulder, the last will of your father because he believed that you could do this, you could make ORB – the world – a better place.

And he stayed by your side. _Because you need someone._

You said nothing. _I'm hurt, I'm lost, I'm screwed. Do you still want me?_

He smiled, if a little bitter it was. _My father shot me. Do you think I'm any less screwed?_

It was probably just another small play of fate. You were there with him, half of it because Kira was not. Because Kira could not. He was untouchable, still torn between a lingering old love and a growing new affection, but remaining off-limit nonetheless. There was little you could do, because there was no way changing the fact, the identical pattern that was printed in your DNA.

You never asked how he felt about you. It simply wasn't appropriate, although there were times when you looked into his eyes and just wanted to blurt out those three little – _forbidden_ – words.

It was one of the reasons why you could never really be close to Lacus. Oh, perhaps you could, if you put more efforts into it, but unfortunately you were simply too honest and keeping what you felt for Kira inside was already more than enough.

Sometimes you wondered if she knew. Lacus wasn't stupid, contrary to your prejudices against pink-haired princesses, and often you found yourself wishing that she wasn't so perfect. Athrun carried the same burden, you knew, because there were times when his eyes would so briefly flitted across the room to where she was and this melancholy look would settle on his face even just for a second.

Whether there was love or not, they were once engaged and would undoubtedly marry each other if it wasn't for the war and the many meetings intertwined in it. You could understand that, but it didn't exactly help to improve your sentiment toward her.

Athrun never said anything either. You were not sure if this was a good or bad sign in this unplanned relationship of yours, but then again why did it matter? It had been wrong from the start. What was the sense to correct it now?

But he continued to stay by your side, even after the war.

You were surprised, pleased, unsure, _scared_.

_What are you doing?_

His smile didn't falter. _I'm protecting you._

You frowned. _You don't have to do this_. _You don't have an obligation to me._

It still didn't falter, but you thought it dimmed a little. _I'm protecting the peace._

You were… taken aback. Perhaps it wouldn't be too far from the truth to admit that there was a little disappointment. You didn't love him, no, but he had kissed you that day on Archangel and didn't that mean something? Selfishness, _possessiveness_ burned bright in your chest. Unfair. She already had the one you loved, but she still wouldn't let go of the only one left who could care about you right now, the one you could find solace in.

But you said _thank you._

Maybe it was at that moment when you started to feed your heart lies and pretenses. It wasn't as hard as it sounded – after all, what choice did you have? Here existed two persons who needed someone to fill the emptiness in their heart and you actually _cared_ for him up to some point. It wasn't love but he was nice, patient, gentle, good-looking, smart, skilled, everything you could ask for.

Who knows, _who knows_ he could eventually make you forget about a love that should not be.

It took you more than a year to realize that not everything was that easy. Affection grew, but love was an entirely different matter. He still didn't say anything and you continued to believe that to never ask some things was for the better. He remained at your side, a constant presence, a promise to protect, an assurance that _no, you're not going to be alone._

You never asked.

He was your only pillar of strength. You couldn't lose him.

But then he gave you a ring, kissed you, and left.

You smiled at him, returned his kiss, and wished him luck.

As you stood there, watching his car disappeared behind the gate, you wondered if there was a little more love, would you not let him go?

If he loved you even just a little, would he leave?

It was one of those questions you never tried to answer, but the ring stayed with you throughout the second war, a small token of trust you had put on him. If there was love, you didn't realize, all you knew was his promise to be there, which he had failed to keep but you continued to believe in because someday, somehow he would return.

Still, it was hard to continue trusting him with the weight of your country, of the peace on your shoulders. Everybody stood against you, accusations on their mouth, and you wondered while you were weeping alone in the darkness of your room, why your pillar of strength wasn't there anymore.

When you said 'yes' to Yuna's proposal, you thought it was alright. You didn't love him anyway. The only man you loved was the one beyond your reach.

But you still saw Kira in your dreams, still plagued by the empty wishes, the secret desire, the impropriety when you dreamed of him kissing you, his arms wrapped around your body tightly, his mouth whispering words only dark should witness. You rarely saw him anymore. It was almost as if the two of you were avoiding each other. Sometimes you entertained the idea that he felt the same, that he suffered as much as you, and yet you could find no peace in those thoughts. It was Lacus, not you, at his side, and he was your brother, damnit.

Your surprise was bitter, empty when you realized that first love really stayed with you as long as you lived. That it had to be Kira was a cruel play of fate.

But you needed Athrun. You needed him enough to feel that there was a corner in your heart, bleak, barren, now that he wasn't there to offer you one of his rare smiles. You needed him enough to wish that he would return before the marriage and save you because there was no other you could depend on.

That it had to be Kira who saved you from said wedding was another cruel play of fate.

But above all, it was _that day_ which changed everything.

No one was surprised when you eventually got married at nineteen and took him as your husband. It was a right thing to do. No one questioned anything, no one suspected that there was something amiss, that this was _never_ a match made in heaven like so many were keen to name. Only Kira. He stomped angrily into your room and confronted you when the news was out in the society, his voice cold, torn, furious, _why, why did you do that? You don't love him. You never did._

You remembered thinking that it was the truest thing he had ever said.

It was just an obligation, you said, because you needed a husband and Athrun was the best choice. Love didn't matter. It could grow as you two spent more times together. Many married couples did that.

You didn't admit _I've spent almost four years at his side and I still can't love him._

You didn't say _because we are siblings, idiot._

It was just, like some said, how the story goes. You weren't allowed to love the one you loved, but there was someone who needed you as much as you needed him. Why not? You could live with that. It would turn out just fine.

That time, you didn't understand what marriage – love, a promise to be together till death parted – meant.

You never understood love beyond Kira Yamato.

But even as you stood at his side, dressed in a white ornate dress, wearing one of your best fake smiles, knowing that he suppressed as much as you did inside, you remembered _that day_. It would reside forever in the darkest corner of your heart, that twilight after the war in Dardanelles. He had shouted at you, told you to stay away, and perhaps you had been wrong, yes, you had acted on impulse more than anything, but it didn't change the fact that he hadn't stood by your side, that the only pillar of strength you knew had left you.

You couldn't forget that.

He didn't touch you that night. You went to sleep at your side of the bed, not looking at him, and hoping, wishing for the night to be over soon. There was no sound from his side and you wondered why but you couldn't turn around. The night only dragged on, leaving your eyes burned, your heart aching and you heard yourself soundlessly asking why, why, _why._

That night, you realized that you had made a very big mistake. You had never forgotten Kira and you knew that Athrun had his own wounds, deep in his heart that would never heal, those he wept for in secret, for those he failed to protect. They were too many, those little wounds – sometimes you blamed them on his overly nice nature – and you were unsure if you could deal with them, if there was enough affection or whatever it was you felt for him, to keep you going.

You ended up sleeping only for one or two hours and when you were finally awake, you found his side of the bed empty.

Holding back hot, wounded tears, you told yourself, you had to get used to this. Even when it turned out that he only left for a little fresh morning air, the thought stayed with you. It was a warning, not wise to deceive yourself with illusions you knew were not – _never_ – true. You didn't love him. He didn't love you. It was a fact.

But you moved on.

Your first son was born when you were twenty-two. You couldn't forget his face when he first saw the small, helpless baby, and your heart throbbed painfully in your chest. You thought about love and asked yourself, did it exist? Why the baby was even there if it did not?

Athrun named him Dion. You remembered commenting that he had no sense in giving names and he laughed, his deep, green eyes brightening, and you suppressed a slight quiver running through your body.

As soon as you were released from the hospital, postponed duties had waited and you found that to take care of Dion by yourself was not a possible choice. You loved your son, but you couldn't stay with him, not even when he was just a little more than one year old and fell sick. You only discovered after the doctor called and informed you that your son might not survive the fever.

None of his parents knew.

You already had your share of hating your duties, but they didn't hold a candle to what you felt right now. This was new, the role was new, but your status as the Head Representative loathed to share. It was what you wanted, a small voice – repulsive, challenging – told you. This was what your father wanted. You couldn't back down now.

But this was your son. He meant almost everything to you. You weren't sure you could handle Kira's marriage if you had not your son. He was at the topmost of your list, threatening to kick your country to the second place, and as you sat there, holding his unnaturally warm hand while Athrun repeatedly kissing the other, you wondered, tears blurring your sight, if every mother felt the same.

To your utmost relief, Dion recovered from his illness, and you vowed to yourself never to abandon your child again.

In the end, it was time that made you forgot.

When you were twenty-four, you found out that you were pregnant again. It was during the height of your internal dispute, so this news came more like an unpleasant surprise to you. Athrun knew, you felt your chest tightening as you looked into his eyes, because the bright green pools darkened and the smile disappeared from his face, and you found yourself thinking if he felt the same turmoil or was it just you?

After you gave birth to Ren, you told your husband that you needed a separate bedroom. You couldn't afford to get pregnant again, not with another war brewing in the horizon and you still being the Head Representative. He nodded, not raising the slightest objection, and moved several doors down the corridor, to the other side of Dion's room.

The separation felt like everything your marriage had been, a change of pattern, a routine interrupted. You had been so used to his presence, to the soft drone of his breathing that to sleep alone was strange at first. Your room felt emptier, quieter, although it shouldn't make too much difference because after all, you rarely spoke to each other except in a case of need.

And as usual, you ignored the discomfort and buried yourself in your work. You would get used to it quickly.

Sometimes, at really rare times when you accidentally had a glimpse of a happy family, like a father, a mother and a daughter you saw strolling down the snow-laced street during a Christmas Eve, talking, laughing, happier than anyone you had ever seen, you wondered if it was what being a family should be like. Not this coldness, emptiness, formality that greeted you every time you came home, gave each of your sleeping sons a kiss and threw your husband a little smile if you passed him in the hallway.

But it was alright. You still had your sons. Even though you didn't love their father, you still loved them.

Kira was the only one who knew the real state of your marriage. Every so often, he would appear at your house with Lacus and their daughter, and give you this concerned look that made you look away. Then he would corner you in the kitchen or your bedroom, asking why, what the hell happened, and you would just smile bitterly at him. You couldn't turn to him, not with what remained from a raging passion, the only love you knew still lingered in your heart. You steeled yourself, refusing to explain even when he took your hands in his, in his violet eyes a look that could make you melt and succumb at once had you been younger.

You were no longer the girl you had been once and you knew he also realized it when he took you into his arms, whispering _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ over and over again in front of your ears.

When your sons enrolled into elementary school, you had lost count on how many times you had to say _sorry, Mother has to_ et cetera, et cetera to them. They would look crestfallen for a moment, but then quickly recover and smile at you. School plays, parents's visits, you didn't know what else you had deprived them of. Athrun accused you of not being a good mother and you snapped back that he better shut his mouth because he also failed to carry out his duties as a father.

You were aware that he had his responsibilities, but you expected him to do the same, not poking at the angry guilt bleeding still deep in your heart. It wasn't something you could help. You were the Head Representative. There were duties you had to do for the people, for your country which – although it broke your heart to admit this – were the most important thing in your life.

It was just one random moment, when you suddenly realized that you never celebrated your marriage anniversary anymore. Perhaps because it was Valentine's Day, or perhaps because your secretary had told you just this morning, face bright, suppressed delight evident in her eyes, of the proposal she had just accepted and the gold band circling her left ring finger.

You never knew that happiness. When Athrun had proposed, it felt more like an agreement, a pact you had to sign every now and then with the head of another country. You would marry him and he would marry you, as simple as that.

Once more you ignored it, taking refuge in the fact that you made your people smile. Your hard work was for them. It didn't matter if you couldn't feel the happiness love brought or any other trivial thing because you loved your people and they loved you in return. It didn't matter if there were nights you cried yourself to sleep, loneliness and every other night demons trailing their cold fingers on you, because in the end you fulfilled the promise with your father.

And years passed with those thoughts as your fuel, your strength. It continued to the point where you no longer knew how to live otherwise. You couldn't love him, even when you found yourself standing before his door, hand reaching to the handle but never quite got there because you had fled to your room out of mortification, almost fear. You couldn't love him, even when you fell sick and in the haziness of a high fever, you thought you felt a gentle hand caressing your head, heard his voice softly whispering comforting words.

You just couldn't love him.

It was why sometimes it hurt to look at your sons. They looked so much like their father and the resemblance only grew as they matured. You were not sure if they realized the strained relationship between their parents, but if they did, they never said anything.

When Dion said that he wanted to sign up for military service, you said _no_ but to your utmost dismay, Athrun supported his decision. He was already eighteen, he said, an adult with his own rights to choose and not even his parents could dictate him anymore. You were furious at him, but your son had already made his choice. Dion was stubborn, though from who he inherited the trait you didn't know. Both you and Athrun could be exceedingly stubborn when the need called for it and maybe it wasn't that surprising to see that your son copied his parents to the most extreme ends.

Perhaps your wish to protect your own son was selfish, but you couldn't help it. Wars were starting at every corner of the earth and although ORB remained neutral, sometimes you couldn't stay put to see the suffering of innocent people beneath the feet of another cold-blooded dictator who wanted the world through the worst possible ways. It was your promise to defend ORB's ideals which stopped you from declaring a war. Conferences were called, aids were sent, but all yielded nothing, only more headaches and fear.

What you dreaded happened six months later, when ORB, the last neutral nation, was attacked. As much as you wanted to avoid involving your people, this was a matter of defending the country. It already hurt you so much to send your soldiers into war. The pain was indescribable when you realized that your son was among them.

You didn't realize that you were scared for Dion more than Kira until the war dragged on and you found yourself praying night after night that your son's name wouldn't be on the list of casualties you would receive the next morning. Maybe you believed more in Kira's combat abilities. Maybe it was simply the love for your son that eclipsed everything else.

It was somewhere during those times when you began to stop speaking to Athrun. You just couldn't banish the thought that it was because of him that now you had to constantly fear for your son's life. Not that it was too hard to do. You already saw him rare enough with all the wars and him constantly being in the frontline to actually put an effort in doing so.

As if it wasn't enough, it turned out several months later that your sixteen-year-old second son was involved in drugs. With stress of continuous wars pressing down, you almost managed to force the Congress into agreeing a capital punishment for drug dealing until one of them kindly reminded you that half of the dealers were probably also the victims. And Kira, just returning from the battlefield because his best friend was leading a crucial operation and couldn't afford to be absent, held your hand under the desk, his violet eyes telling you to calm down because _Cagalli, you are sitting on the throne_.

You almost broke down to tears. This was Ren, your son, your own flesh and blood. It was so damn hard, but you had to be strong. You didn't have the privilege to let emotion wreaked havoc in your common sense.

Still, you couldn't help thinking that if his mother – if his father – spent more time with him, this misfortune would not happen.

Two years later, at the very young age of twenty-one, Dion died in a battle.

You remembered receiving a phone call from Athrun and the fact that he had personally made a call already stirred the dormant fear in your stomach. When he broke the news, you found yourself unable to scream and the last thing you heard before passing out was his own faint sobs.

Never in your life, had you wanted so much to die. You refused to receive any other call and locked yourself in your dark, empty bedroom, spending the night curled up in your bed, wishing that you had forbidden him to enlist that day, cursing the world and the army which had shot him down, thinking _why God, why not me, I'm the one who sent him to his death._

After the funeral, you stopped speaking to your husband entirely.

The war ended a year after but your pain did not. There would always be this emptiness in a corner of your heart, where Dion had been once. There would always be anger, hurt, disappointment, betrayal when you looked at Athrun, the memory of your deceased son taunted, roared like an angry beast because _it's your fault, your fault, your fault._ It hurt to smile at him while there were others watching, but you had to because so many couples looked up to you. A charade, nothing more, and if it was what your people wanted to believe, you could only keep it up.

It hurt, but it didn't matter. You were already too numb to feel, to be astonished at how good you were doing this lately. You couldn't live any other way anyway.

At least there was still Ren. And your country. Anything else hardly mattered.

Soon, stopping speaking became no longer speaking. Forced smiles became bland, automated smiles. Two years passed without you ever thinking that you had a spouse anymore. He was just there, a presence, duty, debt.

Your life became ORB's. There was no longer Cagalli.

Maybe it was when Ren began courting Kira's daughter that you began to find your way back to yourself. What you had felt once for Kira had been toned down to warm affection, but you were still secretly thankful that Alicia was nothing like Lacus, inheriting her every feature from her father but a pair of deep blue eyes. She was the constant presence at your son's side when he was recovering from his addiction to drugs and was it so surprising to see them finally end up together? You smiled, thinking that even the worst could yield a little happiness, glad that your son found his love not in a forbidden person.

What surprised you was to see the same smile on Athrun's lips. It was beautiful, so unlike everything you had ever seen he wore on his face, and for some reasons it filled your black-crossed heart with emotions long forgotten, warmth that should not even be there in the first place.

When his gaze fell on you, you quickly looked away.

Remember Dion, you told yourself.

But it didn't end there. Whenever you saw him, at breakfast, at work, at a formal gathering, the same warmth flowed in your veins. It confused and disgusted you at the same time because you kept telling yourself, no, you couldn't love him.

You shouldn't love him. You hadn't married this man out of love.

It still didn't stop your heart from going on its own accord. You began to question why you never slept past the side you had designated to yourself so long time ago. He was no longer there but you couldn't move from your side, sometimes, in the loneliest depth of night, tracing your fingers on the soft, cold surface of a pillow long since left unused. You would stand at windy nights in front of your window, looking outside for a glimpse of him if he returned later than you, but whenever he looked up, you would disappear behind the curtain. You even dreamt of Dion, five years old with a pair of wide green eyes, asking why Mother never kissed Father goodnight because wasn't it a natural thing to do? You woke up with a start and found tears running down your cheeks, and you suddenly wished that his room was not so far.

You didn't love him, but why it hurt so much?

Everything came to an end on the night before Ren's wedding.

You had never seen him smiling so much as he did that day during the rehearsal. He even threw a joke or two at Kira who fired back almost as mercilessly, a rapport between two best friends once more evident. It must have made a difference, thinking that your son would marry, and you couldn't help but to smile yourself with so many happy faces around.

It wasn't the same, you realized when you and Athrun returned alone to the residence, Ren spending his last night out in a bachelor party. The emptiness was still there, but for perhaps the fist time in gold-only-knows-how-many-years, he escorted you to your door instead of immediately disappearing into his room. He was still talking about tomorrow's ceremony, and you found yourself unable to look away, from the deep emerald eyes which for once were alive, not dulled by battles and age, the gentle laugh you hadn't heard in years, the affectionate smile you hadn't noticed since perhaps you had walked down the aisle and thought that _from today on, I will spend my life beside a man I do not love._

He had already wished you goodnight and gone several steps down the corridor when you suddenly felt that you didn't want him to go.

"Athrun."

He turned around, surprised as much as you were at the tone of voice you had used. The breath you took in was shaky and the same fear, almost as intense as those which filled your nights of praying that your son could survive the war, seized your heart in its ironclad grip. This was stupid. You were only carried away by the mood. You didn't love him. You never had.

It was strange how realization could feel so ironic.

"I love you."

Because you felt that you loved him after all.

He didn't say anything for a long time, only standing there looking at you with uncertainty, long-crushed hopes, trepidation warring in his eyes. Maybe he thought the same, you desperately fought down another wave of fear. He thought it was only the mood.

You opened your mouth but a pair of arms already embraced you before you could utter a word. You were stunned, rooted to the spot, and only after you heard his quiet sobs muffled by your hair that you realized that your own tears for a love you couldn't find had fallen.

He held you in his arms wordlessly and you clung to him. Two people meeting out of chance, two carriages that passed each other during a moonlight night. Strangers, total strangers who couldn't possibly love each other.

You were forty-six, but when he kissed you softly on the lips, you felt like you were sixteen, back on Archangel when he had kissed you for the first time. You had forgotten how it felt and you could feel him trembling even if just a little as he pulled you a little tighter against his chest, what remained of his sobs and quiet breaths the only words you needed to hear in the silence. You probably wouldn't have survived during the last thirty arduous years without him. It was the fact that he was there, a company for life, not always at your side but still there no matter what.

After all these years, he was still your pillar of strength. And you loved him. _You loved him._

_Till death parted._

When he looked back at you and smiled, his tears-glazed eyes the most beautiful things you ever beheld, you were grateful that you realized it before too late.

  
_**End  
** _


End file.
